


Magneto's Sing-Along Blog

by Nostalgic_Kitty



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Humor, Calm Down Erik, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Crack?, Dr. Horrible AU, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik has Feelings, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, F/M, Feels, First Kiss, Honestly Erik what are you thinking, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Protective Erik, Sassy Raven, Surprise Angst, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nostalgic_Kitty/pseuds/Nostalgic_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik just wants to take over the world and woo the pretty man at the local Laundromat. Really, that's all. Is that too much to ask?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Angel at the Laundromat

**Author's Note:**

> Dr. Horrible AU! At long last!  
> Knowledge of Dr. Horrible is not fully necessary to enjoy this fic, but should be required watching due to how awesome it is.  
> I know that Dr. Horrible has three acts, but this fic is projected to be about 6 chapters long with each act broken into two pieces.
> 
> Leave comments if you enjoy! I'll continue it either way, though. ; )

“Goddamn it,” Erik whispers, the glow from his laptop lending his harsh face some soft shadows and gleaming off the edges of his silver helmet. Turning away from the screen, he sucks in a large breath to fill his lungs with air,

“MYSTIQUE!”

When Erik’s rage-induced call prompts only the sound of Raven’s distant, maniacal laughter, Erik knows someone is going to be in deep shit (and it’s probably going to be _Erik_ , with his luck).

“MYS-TIQUE!! RAVEN!!! COME HERE, _NOW_ ,” he yells again, glaring disgruntledly at the title emblazoned on his screen. Erik hears her footsteps approach slowly. Even _they_ sound guilty.

Finally, Raven rounds the corner with a wide grin splitting her blue face clean in half and saunters over to his side, careful not to get within a certain radius of Erik. Propping her hands on her hips and shifting her weight to one foot, Raven lifts one eyebrow innocently and asks,

“What?”

As if she doesn’t damn well know _what_. Erik curses the day he told Raven not to hide herself behind clothes. At least her clothes had metal on them by which Erik could strangle her.

In lieu of words, Erik simply gestures imperiously at the homepage on his screen. Glancing from Raven’s growing smile to it and back again, Erik finally gives up and stabs one long finger at the laptop. Partially eclipsed by his forefinger are the words “Magneto’s Sing-Along Blog.”

“ _This_ is what, you asshole! Change it back. Change it back _now_ ,” Erik says in a dangerously low tone of voice. At his outburst, Raven’s maniacal laughter only kicks in again as she doubles forward, clutching her heaving, scaled sides. Well, _Raven_ certainly seems amused. Erik, however, is most definitely Not Amused.

“Mystique, there will be no _singing_ of any sort on my blog! This is purely a means of communicating my villainly exploits to the internet—which is full of fucking idiots, I must add. It’s meant to show the world my intentions to dominate it and warn them to fear my wrath! It’s not something to play around with when you know perfectly well that I have no clue how the confounded thing works!”

Erik’s frustration may be a bit of an overreaction, he’ll admit. But the flood of asks inquiring about a possible music video have only exacerbated the problem—not to mention the fact that the theme for said blog has been changed from the refined steel, wine red, and subtle magenta to an unholy mixture of pink lace and _kittens_. Erik _hates_ kittens. (Or at least he pretends to)

“I’m just looking out for your public image!” Raven says, recovering from her laughing fit and giving Erik a skeptical once over. “You’re not exactly doing spectacular on that front.”

Sighing and covering his face with his gloved hand, Erik gives in,

“Alright, Mystique. What do I have to do to get you to fix my blog? Steal you those shoes you’ve been lusting after for days? Give Hank a weekend vacation so you two can be all lovey-dovey off in god-knows-where? Let you take pictures of me in drag again? What?”

“Hmmmmm, now let me think,” Raven says in mock thought, tapping the nail of a blue finger against her lower lip methodically. “Oh, I know! How about you stop _fucking stalking my brother_ every week and we’ll talk?”

Erik sputters incoherently, regaining his composure enough to slam his fist down upon the secret base’s desk. The coffee mug, mouse, and framed picture of a blue-eyed man obscured by leaves all do a comical little hop at the action.

“I am most certainly not _stalking_ your brother, Raven!” Erik exclaims, scandalized. “I only happen to go to the same Laundromat as him on exactly the same days he does! It’s pure coincidence.”

“Uh-huh,” Raven mutters disbelievingly. “You know what, whatever. If you’ve got your head too far up your ass to see that you should just _ask Charles out_ already, I’m done. I’m done trying to help you, asshole, so good luck on your own.”

Throwing her hands up in the air, Raven stalks off without another word. Defeated and fuming, Erik slumps into his Menacing Office Chair of Evil and stares broodingly at the dancing cat animations littering his once-prestigious blog. After a sufficient amount of brooding time has passed—and after Erik has stroked Charles picture lovingly at least four times—he reaches his hands forwards and cracks his knuckles. Stretching out his arm, Erik lengthens his spine and corrects his posture. Most villains have no idea how far good posture can go.

Adjusting his webcam, Erik hits the record button and commandingly places his forearms on Menacing Office Chair’s armrests. As the camera begins to record, Erik intones in his most foreboding voice,

“Greetings, fellow mutants! I am Magneto, Master of Magnetism, and this is my blog. Please note that there will be no singing of any sort during— _or after_ —this presentation . . .”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Erik first saw Charles on a Tuesday afternoon at precisely 2:44 PM. It was as if a light shone down from the heavens and illuminated everything in all its dewy wonder after a long bout of rain. Charles had dark waves of brown hair that flowed over his head artfully, lips bitten to a seemingly impossible red, and piercing blue eyes the color of molten sky. Charles wore the most adorable sweater vests and cardigans Erik had ever seen, each of them carefully washed and taken home to dry. But at the Laundromat, Charles always wore a white v neck a couple sizes too small for him and worn jeans that were sinfully tight. The shirt’s fabric rode up and revealed the small of Charles’ back. Erik’s mouth grew dry.

Erik had to consciously and vigorously hold himself back from proposing to the man with the kind smile then and there.

After months of trailing him to the Laundromat and back—learning his patterns and ways—Erik’s latest stalking expedition to the Laundromat was interrupted by the brush of long blond hair and a voice whispering in his ear as he prepared to enter the doors,

“Why _ever_ are you staring at my brother’s ass, Erik?”

Whipping around imperceptibly fast, Erik turned to see Raven in her human mask smirking knowingly up at him. Wasting no time, he dragged Raven into a side alley and began his interrogation without pause for thought.

“Mystique, what the _hell_ are you doing here?! You’re compromising our identities! You’re endangering my mission! All to ask me why I’m staring at your … brother’s …” Erik trailed off, something finally clicking into place. “That’s your _brother_?!?”

“He has a name, you know,” Raven informs him, still smirking. “It’s Charles, by the way. I’m here to get frozen yogurt with him. Do you want his number? I can give it to you.”

Definitely _not_ blushing furiously, Erik squeaks out a small “No.” He’d continue stalking the man of his dreams, thank you very much. Erik was going to do this His Way. Saying something to this effect, Erik pushes past Raven and continues on his mission.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

His Way, it turned out, involved a whole lot of non-action and sneaking furtive glances down the isle of washing machines to catch a glance at chocolate locks and sapphire eyes. Erik was beginning to see why Raven’s approach would have been far superior, but hindsight has nothing on Erik’s pride. He would never admit to _this_ mistake, not even under the pain of death. His Way could still work, Erik kept telling himself, it could still work.

One day he even spoke to Charles. That was certainly progress! An audible connection, real conversation! Erik was very proud of himself, really.

Taking into account that their one (and only) conversation consisted of Erik clumsily attempting to compliment Charles eyes, Erik’s ego was beginning to deflate around the edges a bit, though. When Charles turned to him and asked with a blinding smile, “What was that, my friend?” Erik made up same lame excuse about pies instead, mentally berating himself for the devilish ways Charles presence tied his tongue in knots.

Resolving to deal with it another day, Erik went on with his laundry—carefully separating the reds from the whites, as no dignified mutant other than Sebastian Shaw wore _pink_. He made certain with his powers that the dryer didn’t shrink any of Charles clothes, hovering protectively from afar. Another day, he told himself, another day he would show Charles what their love could be.


	2. A Chance Encounter (Or, Erik's Day Gets Fucked Up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Wooooooooo! Thanks for all the interest you guys have been showing, makes me even more motivated to keep writing. : )

The opening and closing of the secret base’s door—located not so secretly, in a small apartment just off of 10th street—was all the warning Erik had before he was met with a face full of envelopes.

“What the f—“Erik splutters, raking the letters up where they have fallen into his lap.

“Here’s your mail, idiot,” Raven says, perching herself on the couch in her blonde form as Erik sorts through said mail. “I _still_ fail to see why you can’t go get it yourself, but whatever. Go make me a sandwich or something, I’m starving.”

“I’ll have you know, Mystique, that this is a _secret_ base and I cannot allow you to compromise our identities more than you already have. And no, I will _not_ make you a…wait a second,” Erik pauses, holding a snow white, pristine envelope in his hands. The letter has been sealed with a snowflake emblem that Erik quickly tears through in his haste.

Getting up from the couch in one smooth movement and coming to lean over Erik’s shoulder, Raven raises both eyebrows and stabs a painted nail at the letter Erik is now hurriedly skimming.

“What’s this??? Helllllllllllo, earth to Magneto! What’s the letter?” she says, waving an impatient hand in front of Erik’s face. As if coming out of a daze, Erik slowly turns with wide eyes to Raven.

“It’s from the Brotherhood. From Frost herself,” he says, handing the letter to Raven for inspection.

“Oh my god,” Raven says, a sudden serious air coming over her. “What does it say?! What does it say?!”

Digging her nails into Erik’s shoulder and bouncing up and down in her excitement, Erik is rocked back and forth in his seat. Surprisingly, he remains staring blankly at the letter.

“It says they’re willing to consider my application for membership. All they need is for me to carry out a major crime of some sort.” Sitting dazedly back in his chair, Erik realizes the gravity of the situation and turns to Raven once more.

“Do you know what this means? I could actually become a part of the Brotherhood, the most prestigious league of evil mutants in known existence! Raven, do you think I’m ready for that?” Erik asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Of course you are!” Raven exclaims, slapping Erik’s shoulder (which has endured a lot of abuse by now, thank you _very_ much Raven). “So what crime should we commit? And could we possibly make it a heist involving food because I’m pretty hungry still—“

“No Raven. No, I have to do this one alone. I’ll message you if I need help,” Erik says, squinting his eyes in thought. Once more, he must do things His Way. And this time, everything will go according to planned.

 

Of course all that goes out the window when he immediately runs into Charles on his way to the nearby bank.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles Xavier sighs in faint defeat as another passerby ignores his genuine smile and outstretched clipboard. He’s trying to save an abandoned building from being torn down and repurpose it as a school for young mutants. It’s a good cause and, if not for Charles’ telepathy, he would honestly have no idea why so many refused to sign his petition. Just as yet more people walk past with awkwardly turned-away glances and uninterested minds, Charles sees a vaguely familiar man (who also happens to be painfully handsome) determinately making what seem to be jazz hands in the direction of the bank.

Approaching cautiously but hopefully, Charles reaches said man and extends an open hand towards him, saying,

“Excuse me, my friend, but could I trouble you for a moment of your time?” The man startles and turns to him with the quick precision of a predator, all lean grace and smooth movements. He keeps doing the jazz hands thing, though, which Charles has to admit is a little weird.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhgggggggg—W-what?” the man says, startled and a bit red in the face. Charles hopes he’s not feeling faint. He brushes against his mind to check and is met by reinforced steel walls. Well, so much for using his power to get the man’s number.

“I was wondering if you could sign this petition for a mutant school—“ Charles says, stopping upon closer examination of the man’s stunning features. “Wait, I feel like we’ve met before. Don’t I know you? I quite think I would remember meeting a man such as yourself.”

Turning on the charm and his natural flirtation, Charles watches as the man grows even redder.

“We’ve met! I mean—yes, yes we have. Have we?” the man chokes out, painfully maintaining his outstretched hands and glancing nervously towards the bank.

“At the Laundromat—of course! I would never forget a face like yours, my friend,” Charles says, rephrasing the pickup line in hopes that it might work better this time.

“Yes, every Tuesday around 2:40 except the last two weeks when you were sick,” the man reports with sharp precision. “I mean—I’ve _seen_ you, we’ve just never—Erik. My name is Erik Lehnsherr.”

Deciding that this one is worth the apparent stalker-like tendencies and strange hand gestures, Charles reaches out to take one of Erik’s raised hands in his own and shake it firmly.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Charles Xavier.” If possible, Erik grows even redder, staring down at the place where their hands are joined.

A sudden jerk of a distant armored van sitting in front of the bank seems to accompany Erik’s flustered state, but Charles ignores it in turn of smiling radiantly up at the man and refusing to let go of his hand.

“Um…” Erik says, carefully extracting his hand. Frowning now, Charles feels disappointment well up within him as he notes Erik’s seeming lack of interest. Damn it, if only he could read the man’s mind!

“I would—I would sign. Any other day, but I have— _things_ —to do, so I’ll just be…” Erik makes a vague gesture towards the bank and the armored car jerks again.

Before Charles can parse the strangeness of Erik’s excuse, Erik has already jogged off in the opposite direction, rounding a corner and disappearing. Frowning once more, Charles resolves to get the man to open up the next time he sees him at the Laundromat.

Taking a deep breath, Charles steels himself to go bother more passersby for their time and signatures.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rounding the corner and donning his Magneto costume—silver helmet and all—Erik curses himself for fucking up that interaction with Charles. Their first real conversation, and he sounded like a bumbling idiot half distracted the whole time! God- _damn_ -it.

Centering himself once more, Erik turns his attention back to the bank and the task at hand. With his metal manipulation, stealing hundreds of gold bars should be no problem. A piece of cake, even. And it would be that easy if it weren’t for the fact that just as Erik begins to float the bars out of the car, Sebastian Shaw appears to fuck his day up even more.


	3. Act One Ends (Along with Erik's Hopes and Dreams)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long and is so short, I had finals and then a trip to Japan (which was awesome!) on my plate. Now I am in full summer mode and have plenty of time for writing, so updates will come much quicker! :D

Sebastian Shaw is having a good day. A great day, perhaps. A Marvelous Day, in fact. Being mayor of their small town was no easy feat. Sometimes, Shaw even had to _do_ things. But today, he had dumped all of his work on his secretary and was free to roam the town admiring his handiwork. All the citizens obeying his rules and following his orders, the construction crews tearing down the old and replacing it with new buildings. The bank, full of the wealth and plenty of the town, shining in the afternoon sun, with gold bricks catching the light as they float out of an armored truck—

Wait a second, _what the hell_?

Shaw’s pleased and self-satisfied grin drops from his face like a ton of bricks. He knows what this means, all that floating metal, and it means Magneto. Which, as always, means _war_. (Or at least small scale fist fights that Shaw always wins)

Taking off his suit jacket in preparation to don his lovely light red costume, Shaw shoves it in the direction of a passerby and orders them to get it dry cleaned. Rolling up his sleeves, he prepares for battle.

After all, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as Erik gently lifts the bars from their vehicle, he hears a booming voice that haunts his nightmares yell,

“STOP. HALT. DESIST, MAGNETO, IN THE NAME OF THIS TOWN.”

God _damn_ it, this just isn’t Erik’s week at _all_.

He turns to see Shaw in all his hideous pink glory, standing menacingly near the front of the bank and the gold bars that have now dropped to the ground. Honestly, is the man color blind or something? Erik’s sense of style is far superior.

Having been distracted by his line of thought, Erik’s only warning before a fist imbued with stored energy makes contact with his face is a shout of “TAKE THIS, VILLAIN!” and the crunch of loose asphalt under Shaw’s feet.

His head ringing from the impact—though his helmet took the brunt of it—Erik quickly grabs onto a nearby fire escape with his powers and flings it emphatically at Shaw. While Shaw is distracted by the metal flying towards him, Erik scrambles his way to his feet. Just when he is about to engage Shaw again, however, Erik sees a wayward truck swerving to avoid the gold, heading straight for _Charles_.

Mustering all his strength, Erik reaches out to stop the truck, his power slipping and sliding over the aluminum steel alloys and iron crossbars. If it is the last thing he does, Erik will protect Charles until his dying breath.

But just as Erik manages to pull the truck to a screeching halt, fucking _Shaw_ lets loose a blast of energy that flings Charles out of the way and straight into a nearby pile of garbage. It’s like Shaw has no idea how utterly precious and wonderful Charles is, as if he only sees Charles as a _thing_. But then—then—

Then Shaw saunters over to Charles, his perfectly coiffed hair blowing infuriatingly in the breeze along with that atrocious pink cape. And then Shaw reaches out and pulls a dazed and rumpled Charles to his feet and offers him a hearty handshake that lingers _far_ too long. As they exchange niceties and Shaw makes Charles laugh charmingly, Erik can see the end coming. The way Charles puts a flirty hand on Shaw’s forearm, the way Shaw leans dangerously close to Charles with a predatory glint in his eye, all spell disaster.

Balls.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Shaw gazes seductively into previously-okayish-looking- guy’s blue eyes that are surprisingly captivating, he muses that this one might be worth pursuing. After all, it could be fun. If he doesn’t get anything else out of it, at least he’ll get a decent fuck. Besides, this one looks beyond _easy_.

Shaw smirks and puffs out his chest, beginning his mental scheming.


	4. Frozen Yogurt Solves Everything (Kind of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos, comments, and hits! I'm so glad so many people are enjoying this. Here's the next chapter.

Erik stares dejectedly at his webcam, unable to muster up the drive to film another video for his blog. Said blog remains littered with kittens and a large bruise is forming on Erik’s face where Shaw’s fist connected with his helmet, but these are not the reasons for his woe. No, the true reason lies in the picture frame to the left of his computer.

 _Charles_ , Erik thinks, his heart breaking into a million, billion tiny pieces that are crushed to dust under Shaw’s mighty boots.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles cannot believe his eyes. Sebastian is someone who at first radiated only arrogance and condescension—a feeling Charles hopes was not directed at him, though he can’t know for sure without prying into Sebastian’s mind. But the man really seems to be trying to change for the better, reading a story (albeit with a forced, fake smile) to the young mutants at the orphanage. If Sebastian can change, then there’s hope for everyone, so Charles can’t stop trying now. He has to believe that there’s good in everyone, that a chance for true peace exists.

 

Part of Charles’ decision to give Sebastian a chance has _nothing_ to do with the intense looks the other man has been giving him, nor the perfection of his stunning hair. Charles is not vain in the least (though his sister Raven would disagree) and certainly doesn’t fall for the first person to boost his confidence in a long time. Besides, Sebastian is sweet in his own way. Just look at him with the children, trying so hard, all for Charles.

 

So when Sebastian asks, Charles says yes to an afternoon date the next day, hoping that a lot of good can come from this relationship. After all, without his hope, who would Charles be?

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik watches from behind a nearby tree as Charles merrily feeds ducks in the town park. Charles looks magnificent like this, his hair shining in the sun and his blue eyes filled with kindness as his lips quirk up in an amused smile. The only thing marring the scene as Charles tosses breadcrumbs is the horrible monstrosity known as Sebastian Shaw, sitting on a nearby bench and blatantly staring at Charles’ ass every time he bends over to stroke a duck. Only _Erik_ is allowed to stare covertly at that ass, dammit.

 

Erik can’t believe Charles would _do_ this to him! Going on a date with Shaw of all people! If it weren’t for Charles good nature and his relentless optimism which lead to a tendency to always assume the best of people, Erik would consider this a betrayal of the highest degree and would stop pursuing Charles altogether. Even so, if he weren’t so fucking in love with Charles, Erik wouldn’t have nearly such a hard time letting it go.

 

As it stands now, Erik can’t seem to do anything but conveniently follow (A.K.A. stalk) Charles throughout the rest of his date, cringing disgustedly when Shaw bestows upon Charles a heated goodbye hug. Seeing this, Erik begins to plan how he can woo Charles and show him who the right person for him truly is.

 

He’ll probably do it with frozen yogurt.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I honestly cannot believe we’ve never done this before, my friend,” Charles states. Erik watches him avidly as he delicately folds sweater vests and slacks. His hands move in a strangely fascinating manner, dipping and pulling fabric taught in a way that makes Erik’s face redden. Who knew laundry could turn him on?

“Yes, in all the hours of monotonous boredom standing next to each other, we’ve never had a real conversation until now,” Erik says, thinking back to all his days spent pining and internally cheering that those days are over. (For now, Erik chooses to ignore the fact that Charles is dating Shaw. It’s a temporary state, after all.)

“I, uh, I actually quite enjoy laundry,” Charles stammers tentatively, an embarrassed blush spreading over his face. Dismayed by Charles’ upset, Erik quickly amends his previously foolish statement,

“J-just kidding! That was sarcasm. I love it.”

Erik gives Charles his best winning smile, a wide grin known to terrify the masses. Charles seems amenable to his sudden change of heart, smile returning to his face as he continues folding. Suddenly Erik remembers his official wooing technique of the day and pulls a paper bag out from behind his back.

“Wow, would you look at that? The frozen yogurt place gave me an extra serving. You wouldn’t happen to like it or anything, would you?” Erik says, turning on what little charm he owns. Charles blinks in surprise, soft eyelashes fluttering over smooth cheeks. Then he breaks out into the sunniest smile Erik has ever seen.

“My friend, how did you know? I go with my sister for frozen yogurt every week. It’s my favorite!”

Grinning triumphantly, Erik hands over the second cup, a shiver running through him as his fingers slide over Charles’. He almost thinks he sees Charles shiver in a similar manner, but chalks it up to his imagination in the end. Noticing his own pile of unfolded laundry, Erik waves a casual hand at his pants, using the zippers and buttons to fold them without a thought. Charles’ lovely eyes go wide and round, spoon pausing half way to a tantalizingly open mouth.

“You’re a mutant? A telekinetic, perhaps? That’s amazing, Erik!” Charles bursts out excitedly, setting his frozen yogurt down to grasp Erik’s forearm tightly. Erik nearly swoons onto the floor.

“Uh, metallokinetic, actually,” he stammers distractedly, eyes glued to the place where they’re touching.

“I myself am a telepath, of course! But your ability is much more interesting. What I wouldn’t give to someday observe your powers from your point of view …”

Erik’s eyes are still watching Charles’ strong hands where they wrap around his limb, distracted—almost too distracted. By the end of the speech, Erik’s mind finally catches up with what’s just been brought to light.

A telepath. _Shit_. Charles must know everything

Noticing his pained expression and taking it for fear, Charles rushes to explain himself and reassure Erik.

“I don’t go prying without permission, Erik. No need to worry. I won’t enter your mind unless you allow me that honor,” Charles says, staring at Erik with sad blue eyes full of honesty and conviction. Erik lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing once more only to be hit with a painful reminder when Charles continues his previous thought.

“Anyways, you have a most stunning mutation, my friend. I haven’t encountered such an interesting one in a long time, let alone two in one week!”

“Two? What do you mean, two?” Erik asks.

“Why the man I’m dating and the mayor of this fine town! Sebastian Shaw. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” Charles explains with a bright smile.

“Oh, I’ve heard of him alright … “ Erik says, trailing off as his eyes narrow darkly.

“Um, Erik? You’re currently crushing my change into a ball of metal,” Charles says with a worried stare.

“So I am, Charles, so I am,” Erik mutters darkly.

Fucking _Sebastian Shaw_.


	5. A Kiss or Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting so long for this chapter! It's my favorite one, the one I've been dying to write, so I hope you enjoy! :D

“Greetings, fellow mutants! This is Magneto, Master of Magnetism, and this is my blog! Once more, _I repeat_ , there will be absolutely _no_ singing on this blog. I felt the need to clarify this since certain imbecilic individuals continue to contact me about a music video,” Erik says, speaking with a deep voice accompanied with a penetrating stare. He sits languidly yet commandingly in Menacing Office Chair of Evil, looking into the webcam. Erik is dressed in his full Magneto garb; after all, today is a momentous day, and dressing well is more important to him than Erik is willing to admit.

“As some of my viewers may be aware, I was recently asked by the White Queen to join the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. But on one condition: that being that I perform a crime worthy of their praise. Though my recent attempt to steal gold bars from the bank was a minor failure of miniscule significance, I am still working towards my goal with extreme persistence, so fear not! Soon, very soon, I too shall be counted among the best mutant villains in the world.”

Erik pauses here, collecting his thoughts and banking his excitement at the announcement he is about to make. Taking a deep and calming breath while briefly closing his eyes, Erik opens them once more and finds his center.

“Today is a momentous day, dear followers, for today is the day I commit a crime that will go down in history!” Erik announces in a booming voice filled with the undertones of victory. “Today, I plan to rob this town of its hard-won Double Stuf Oreos—ALL OF THEM— or at least, all of them in the market in the town square. I will update you on the surely successful status of said evil doing in mere hours. For now, farewell, and wish me luck!”

With a dramatic sweep of his cape Erik walks off screen … and then back on to turn off the webcam, fiddling with the confounded thing for far longer than necessary. Finally, he gives up and leaves it recording, deciding to edit out the hours that elapse before his victorious return.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik staggers into his Evil Lair, nursing a sprained wrist and dragging a bruised leg behind him. Wincing as pain shoots through his body, Erik sits carefully in Menacing Office Chair. Shuddering at the memory of Shaw’s boot crushing his hand in victory, he looks forward from his hunched position and notices the recording light on his webcam blinking. Halfheartedly, Erik looks towards the camera and decides to give his followers the update he promised them—no matter how embarrassing it will be.

“Greetings, fellow mutants. Magneto here again. I, ugh, seem to have, er, underestimated my level of stealthy insulation. As it turns out, Shaw and the police are both among my viewers on this blog. The Oreos remain firmly on their shelves and I think I may have broken a rib or ten. But—“

Erik stops, unable to continue with the false optimism he was about to employ. Placing a gloved hand over his forehead and sighing deeply, Erik is just about to continue with his recording when the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs reaches his ears. This is followed by Raven bursting through the door in her blonde mask, looking wild-eyed and out of breath.

“What—”

“Erik, you really need to see this,” she says, panting for air and holding out another snow white envelope in her trembling hand.

Erik’s eyes widen and he takes the envelope gingerly, handling it with care. Peeling up the snowflake emblem sealing it shut, Erik slides out another pristine letter written in careful, spiky cursive. Gulping audibly, Erik begins to read,

“ _Magneto. We’ve been watching your attempts to complete a crime and, frankly, they’ve been a humiliation to the name of evil mutants everywhere. That level of failure just isn’t going to cut it anymore, sugar. I’m afraid an assassination is just the only way you’ll be able to earn our approval. Good luck_. Signed the White Queen,” Erik finishes, still wide eyed and trembling a bit himself now.

“Erik, what do we do now?” Raven asks, her blue brows creased in worry, having changed back to her natural form.

“I-I don’t know, Raven. I’ve really messed this up—” Erik says, pulling the weighty helmet off his head and burying his face in his hands, rubbing methodically at his forehead.

“No, Erik! You can’t give up now! We’re so close, we just have to—figure something out—” Raven stammers, gripping Erik’s hands encouragingly and looking at him with wet, yellow eyes. “You’ve worked so hard. This can’t be it.”

“Raven, no, you’re wrong. I haven’t worked hard _enough_ , dammit! I’ve fucked it all up and I don’t know what to do,” Erik says, ripping his hands from Raven’s and turning away from her. He gets up from his chair and stands in the doorway, still refusing to face Raven.

“I’d like to be left alone now, Raven,” he says.

“Okay, just—if you need me, let me know,” Raven says haltingly, the door shutting behind her and the white letter drifting solemnly to the ground.

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Walking into the Laundromat the next week, Erik sighs. His shoulders are hunched and his brows pinched together with worry. Sullenly, he sulks over to where Charles is standing in his tight clothes, smiling and oblivious. As soon as Charles catches sight of him, however, he gasps and drops his shirt in a crumple, turning to Erik quickly.

“Erik, are you okay, my friend?” Charles asks, worry lacing his words. He grips Erik’s upper arms in a way that would normally make Erik’s cheeks heat furiously. _I would be okay if I had you,_ he thinks

“That’s going to wrinkle, you know,” Erik says, indicating the discarded shirt with a glance.

“Oh, dear heavens, it is!” Charles says, letting go of Erik and turning to pick up the shirt. Once it has been neatly folded and placed in a pile, Charles comes back to Erik and gazes at him with a small, worried smiled.

“But, truly, are you alright? You look terrible.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just trying to get this—job—that’s the job of my dreams and I keep fucking up my—interviews. I feel so worthless lately. Why would they ever want to hire me?” Erik says dejectedly, staring at the ground as his eyes grow wet around the edges.

A warm hand grasps his own as a honey-smooth voice says,

“My friend, let me tell you a story.”

Charles gently pulls Erik in a dazed stupor over to the bench near the front of the Laundromat. Sitting angled towards each other, Charles begins to speak:

“Once, there was a little boy and his name was Charles. Charles lived all alone in a big house. In reality, he wasn’t truly by himself, but his mother spent her days forgetting the living with drinks and his stepfather was a mean-spirited man that chose to ignore Charles whenever he wasn’t taking out his anger on him. Charles had special powers—he could read the minds of others—but his powers were weak and could not hold off the anger of his stepfather or the ignorance of his mother. But one day, a little blue girl named Raven showed up at the house. And it was on this day that Charles learned a very important lesson: there were others like him and they needed help and love just as much as he did.

So as Charles grew, he realized that his mission in life, his dream, was to help others realize that they are loved and cherished. Charles became a young man, and soon he earned a degree that gave him license to teach. Now all he needed were students. One day, when Charles was walking by an orphanage, he realized that orphanage was orphanage for mutants. That many parents simply did not want children with special powers. So Charles decided that he would open a school for mutant children, a place that they could call home. To this day, he still strives to achieve this very goal. And the one thing that keeps him going? His hope. To be continued,” Charles finishes, smiling brightly up at Erik. At some point, their fingers have become interlaced and Erik can feel his face heating. Luckily, it seems that Charles is in a similar state, a light blush staining his cheeks too.

“But how did you keep yourself from giving up?” Erik asks, bewildered and overcome with emotion. “How did you keep going, through all that hardship? How are you _still_ trying when the world tries to tell you you are nothing?”

“My friend, clearly you didn’t listen very studiously to the story! _Hope_ , Erik. Hope is all I’m hoping to be. If I can be that for one single person, for you, then I’ve already reached my goal,” Charles says. His hands tighten even further on Erik’s as he looks searchingly into his eyes. Leaning forward imperceptibly, Erik grips back, dropping his eyes down to stare at their clasped hands.

“All this time, I thought I was the only one who lost hope. I always thought I was alone,” Erik whispers.

“You’re not alone. Erik, you’re not alone,” Charles whispers back.

Erik glances back up just in time to see Charles has grown even closer to him than before. Then there are soft lips on his and the world goes quietly dark as Erik’s eyes slip shut.

The kiss is the most gentle, perfect thing Erik could have ever imagined. Their lips slowly move together. Erik brings up a palm and places it one Charles’ cheek to pull him closer. And for that one moment, all the world is perfect and light and shining with the hope Charles speaks so convincingly of.

But then Charles pulls away and moves Erik’s hand from his cheek, pulling back, and the magic is broken.

“Erik—I can’t—Sebastian …” Charles manages to get out, a little out of breath and his lips kiss reddened.

Oh. Of course. Now Erik remembers.

“It’s just, I _do_ care for you a great deal, but—he said he would come by and I can’t do this to him,” Charles states, looking at Erik beseechingly. Erik sighs and stands up, backing away.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just—” is all Erik gets out before an ear-gratingly familiar voice rings through the Laundromat.

“Charles, my beautiful angel, I have come to visit you and meet this ‘Erik’ you have been talking so much about!” Shaw proclaims, looking searchingly until his eyes land on Charles, where he has just stood from the bench. “Ah, there you are, my sweet flower!”

Charles seems to force forward a smile as Shaw moves past Erik to greet Charles with a deep kiss to the lips. Erik ducks his head to the side and hopes that Shaw doesn’t recognize him without the helmet. Shit, if only he had more warning!

“Sebastian, this is Erik. Erik, Sebastian,” Charles says, towing his “boyfriend” over to meet Erik. “Now, just let me get my laundry and we’ll be ready go.”

As Charles marches off with a spring in his step, Shaw turns to Erik and shakes his hand, looking at him oddly.

“Nice to meet you again, _Magneto_ ,” Shaw says in a low tone, gripping Erik’s hand hard with the crushing weight of stored energy. Erik just knows that’s going to leave a bruise.

“Likewise, _Shaw_ ,” Erik sneers, ignoring the pain in his hand. He glances over at Charles briefly to make sure he hasn’t heard the exchange.

“Awwww, looks like someone has a little crush!” Shaw says, having let go of Erik’s hand and followed his gaze. Shaw looks thoughtful for a moment, then turns back to Erik with an ominous glint in his eye.

“You know what, this is how it’s going to go: _I’m_ going to show Charles this deed to the building he wants for his school, _I’m_ going to take him home, and _I’m_ going to fuck him. All because you want him.”

“Shaw, you bastard—” Erik begins, startling when Charles returns with his clothes.

“Alright, all set! Now, what was it that you wanted to show me again, Sebastian?” Charles asks, acting as if the whole emotional exchange between them never happened.

“Why, just this, darling! A deed to the building you wanted, signed by the mayor— _me_ —himself!” Shaw waves the paper in Charles’ face as Charles’ eyes go wide and shocked.

“Oh my god, Sebastian, you didn’t! I can open the school? I really can?” Charles says in a disbelieving tone.

“As soon as the paperwork is done—yes!”

“Thank you so much!” Charles exclaims, running to give Shaw a hug. “Well, we better get going! See you next week, Erik.” With that, Charles and Shaw make their way from the building, leaving behind a dejected Erik.

Just when Erik is about to return to morosely folding laundry, Charles comes back through the door and sprints over to him.

“I forgot one thing,” he says breathlessly. Before Erik can blink, Charles hauls him forwards by the neck of his polo shirt and kisses him full on the mouth, pulling back immediately to whisper in Erik’s ear.

“Wait for me.”

And then he’s back out the door, leaving Erik stunned and aching.

_That’s it_ , Erik thinks. _Sebastian Shaw is going to die._

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That evening, Charles lies in the darkness and thinks about stories and kisses. Even with Sebastian’s arm curled around his naked middle and his breathe on the back of Charles’ neck, his mind is elsewhere. It is back in the Laundromat, with Erik, and the bright spark of joy that slipped through his mental shields when they kissed. Touching his fingers to his lips and remembering, Charles smiles to himself.


End file.
